And just like that, Sera was officially free. Not able to help herself, she ran to Aristotle and threw her arms around him, hugging the man as if he were the uncle she missed so much from back home. He returned the hug, soothing her with soft words.
“What happened?” she asked, pulling back a bit. “Where are Dak and Riq?”
A grave look shadowed the philosopher’s face. “It’s been a very complicated few hours. I . . . volunteered myself to die — as silly as it sounds — because I hoped I’d be brought before the king or one of his council members as a matter of policy. Someone finally — finally — recognized me and informed Alex, who arrived just yesterday. However . . . as for your friends . . .”
“What?” Sera yelled, her heart forgetting how to beat.
“It was too late when I had them sent for. They’ve been taken to the front line, and communication on that front is poor to say the least. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to get them back — as well as the boy’s parents — before any real fighting takes place. Please try not to worry.”
He must’ve read her face, because the worry almost engulfed her. Not to mention the guilt. If she hadn’t escaped from the pit, she could’ve used the Infinity Ring to whisk them all away once they were sent to the front line.
But then she remembered the reason they were here to begin with.
“Have you told him everything?” she asked Aristotle, throwing a wary glance toward Alexander.
The philosopher shook his head slightly. “He knows enough, but the boy seems to have a hard time believing I’m not a cracked pot.”
“I’m standing right here, you know,” Alexander replied. “Listen, both of you. I have more guards around me than I’d ever need. I am keeping an eye on my father. All is well. Let’s go inside and plan our strategies. War is coming.”
Aristotle gave Sera a look that was almost comical, a What’re-you-gonna-do look. They followed Alexander and the rest of the soldiers and guards into the grand tent of King Philip. Upon entering, Sera’s chest swelled with awe. There were fancy carpets and bronze bowls with red-hot coals and thick pillows strewn about for sitting. And, most majestic of all, was the king himself — it had to be him — sitting in a gilded chair, gazing intently at a map rolled open on his lap. Sera was excited to meet him and wished Dak could be there with her — but as it turned out, there was no time for introductions.
The king stood when he saw Alexander, and gruffly handed the map over to a young page waiting beside him.
“Son!” he yelled, with not a hint of joy at seeing him. “Your timing is impeccable. I’ve just been told that the Persians have taken the initiative and are moving in rapidly. Our front line will soon be under attack.”
DAK HAD tried to hold on to hope as he, Riq, and a large group of others were sent in a horse-drawn cart through the massive army toward the front line. He kept telling himself that Sera would make a difference, figure out what to do, save them. That he and Riq would find his parents and have a happy reunion, then hang out until someone figured out that this group of people from the future didn’t belong on any side of an army, let alone the front.
But that hope was fleeting. As Dak saw the countless soldiers and weapons and horses, and the bleak looks on the faces of those ready to fight, fear filled him. He realized through and through just how mighty the army was — which meant whomever they were prepping to fight must be scary as heck, too. What could Sera possibly do to save them from this mess?
They jostled along, weaving their way through a small break in the sea of soldiers, heading toward their deaths. Dak just hoped that he could be with his parents when it happened. That they could die together.
“You’re looking awfully glum,” Riq said.
“I should be more happy, huh? I mean, check this out. I’m about to get killed in a famous historical war. Yippee, right?”
“Right.”
Dak stared at the linguist, a guy who’d sneakily become one of his best friends. He seemed to have so much going on behind his eyes that curiosity won out over all that I’m-about-to-die stuff.
“What in Rasputin’s name are you thinking about over there?” he asked.
Riq yawned, then slightly shook his head. “Just wondering what I can do for this world.”
Dak didn’t know what answer he’d expected, but certainly not that. “What you can do for the world? Really? I’d say you’ve done quite a bit so far. And, hey, if we die, there’s still a pretty decent chance that Alexander doesn’t — especially with Sera on the loose. So, we saved the world, dude. If I had some root beer, we’d celebrate.” He was trying to cheer things up, and he was afraid he was doing a poor job of it.
“No, man, you don’t get it.” Riq stared off into the distance as he spoke. “Yeah, I think you’re right that we’ll fix the Prime Break. Avoid the Cataclysm and all that. But that doesn’t mean that the world still doesn’t have a lot of room for improvement.”
Dak nodded slowly, showing his best face of contemplation. “Well said. If somehow we don’t get gored by a hundred spears, we can start a charity.”
Riq laughed — the worst courtesy laugh Dak had ever heard. “Yeah. But I just wonder about this time and place. About King Philip and Alexander. It seems like . . . I don’t know. It seems like they need better guidance. With all this power, they could do a lot of good for civilization. For the future.”
“What’re you trying to say?” Dak asked. Something in Riq’s tone had scared him.
Riq never got a chance to answer.
People up ahead had started shouting, all their voices scrambling together to make it impossible for the translator in Dak’s ear to pick up anything. A tension seemed to pass through the crowds of soldiers like a visible wave. And somewhere, rising in volume, was the sound of thunder. A rolling, thumping noise that shook the ground.
The guard in charge of the horses that’d been leading their cart turned around to face them, his face snapped tight with fear, eyes wide.
“They’re attacking us!” he screamed, then lifted his sword and, for some reason, severed the ropes connecting the horses to the cart. He slapped their rears and shooed them back in the direction from which they’d just come. “Get out!” he shouted at Dak and everyone else. “Grab your weapons and get out! There’s no more time! By authority of the hegemon, I order you to make your way to the front line and help us stop the enemy’s charge. NOW!”